


I’ll Take You As You Are

by SometimesIUpdateThis



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Human!Church, M/M, Postwar AU, assholes in love, incredibly vague references to sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 16:42:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4794761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SometimesIUpdateThis/pseuds/SometimesIUpdateThis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glances into what a Churchington postwar domestic life could look like and apparently there’s just a lot of fluff if I’m in charge of imagining it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I’ll Take You As You Are

            It was the time of the day where it was too early to be considered morning yet and too late to be night.  The period where the deep navy hue of nightfall and twinkling stars blanketed the sky above and the faint glimmer of sunlight approached the horizon, a clash of dark and light.  Washington relished those early morning moments alone, there was a stillness, a calm settling over everything the way morning dew settled on grass.  In the summers, it was still cool out meaning he could go for his runs and not have to worry about making polite small talk with his neighbors or come back drenched in sweat, gasping for water and air.  Unfortunately, it was winter now and going out for his daily run in the morning was a horrendous idea.  Regardless, he had a schedule to keep; he still woke up early, made breakfast, and stuck to his routine because he was a man of discipline and habit even though some mornings it was hard to abide by his daybreak ritual.

            There was Church asleep next to him, chest rising and falling, soft snores escaping his lips and all of the blankets twisted around him.  The first few nights he hogged the covers, Wash found it endearing but now it was just rude and downright obnoxious.  It was the middle of winter and he was _freezing_ not that Church noticed.  He lay down so their heads shared a pillow and he was nose to nose with Church, his black hair tousled every which way and his radiant green eyes hidden away for the time being.  Washington quietly watched Church sleep, torn between wanting to push him off and steal the comforter for himself or wanting to continue observing him further.  Years had passed since the war ended and they decided to get a place together and every day he woke up surprised Church lay soundly asleep next to him.  The dreams of waking up alone were always exceedingly realistic and it was hard for him to tell what was true and what wasn’t sometimes but every morning, Church was still there and he was real.

            It was too cold this morning for him to want to stay and admire the sight in front of him a moment longer and in turn he began to climb out of bed, trying his best not to disturb his sleeping partner.  Church was always a heavy sleeper which is why it caught him by surprise when he felt fingers wrap around his wrist.

            “Where are you going?”  Came the sleepy mumble from behind him.

            “Out for a run.  I’m cold and you’re hogging all the blankets again.  Thought jogging would help warm me up.”

            Church smiled to himself slightly as he refused to loosen his grip, his eyes still closed.  “Well, I can think of more fun ways to keep you warm.”

            Washington rolled his eyes, not moving away from the touch even though he was stronger and they both knew a half-asleep Church wasn’t anything challenging for him.  “Go back to sleep, Church.”

            Church blearily opened his eyes, propping himself up while his fingers only tightened around Washington’s wrist.  “C’mon Wash, stay with me for just a little longer.  Most days I wake up to an empty bed and you know… it kinda… _sucks_.  I didn’t mean to take over everything, I’ll share.”

            Wash turned around slowly, mulling the offer over and he didn’t have to think on it a second longer.  He rested one knee on top of their shared bedding to brace himself as Church gently pulled him down.  Church felt warm lips against his and melted into Wash’s chest pressed up against his own, a blanket surrounding them the way the clouds hugged the Earth.  This was why he found it hard to maintain his routine some mornings:  Church could be awfully convincing when he wanted to be.  He was still as gruff and grumpy as ever but in those moments alone they shared together, he let his walls down and Washington did the same.  They would never tell anyone though.

            No one bat an eyelash when Grif and Simmons moved in together, and no one questioned Caboose and Donut in an apartment of their own either.  On the other hand, for some reason, it shocked the group Church and Washington wanted to live with one another.  Aside from a few wayward comments from Tucker which got him accompanying thwacks upside the head courtesy of both Church and Wash, everyone knew not to ask questions.  Getting acclimated with civilian life was an obstacle to them at first but once they figured out what did and didn’t work for them, it was actually rather nice.

            When they initially began searching for houses, Washington insisted their new home contain large windows since he and his cats loved natural lighting.  Church told him he was fucking nuts but he obliged as long as there was a kitchen island; it was the first thing they christened when they moved in.  Eventually they defiled every surface in every room one way or another but the kitchen was probably their favorite place.  Church claimed it wasn’t his fault it was difficult for him to keep his hands off Wash when he prepared coffee in the morning with no shirt on and his boxers slung low on his hips.  It wasn’t Church’s fault _at all_ he came up from behind and wrapped his arms around Washington’s midriff, placing open mouthed kisses from his shoulders and up the curve of his neck.  He loved to distract Washington long enough he didn’t notice the liquid overflowing his mug until Church’s lips were pressed against the shell of Wash’s ear.  The expressions on Washington’s face every time he huskily whispered about how he was “wasting coffee” were always worth it. It took a long time for Church to be open with his affections and consequently be comfortable in his skin.

            The first few months of their relationship, anytime Washington tried to hold his hand, the feeling was searing, unbearably intimate.  Interlocked fingers almost resembled a prison and Church wanted to shy away from the intensity of it all.  Anytime they kissed, whether it was a quick peck or a lazy, deep kiss, the corner of his lips quirked up and the happiness seemed foreign to him, undeserved.  Washington never faltered in his patience though, he himself knew better than anyone what that pervasive tepid hesitation felt like.  Church took his time warming up to the affection and attention bestowed upon him, eventually reciprocating.  If Church encountered Wash engrossed in a book on their living room couch, he made sure to gently place Washington’s folded up glasses on the coffee table before crawling onto his lap to kiss him.  If Wash kissed him once on the way out to run an errand, Church pulled him back for at least ten more before he let him go.

            They had their little moments which were part charming, mostly saccharine.  By far one of Church’s favorite interactions involved walking into their bathroom in the morning and watching Washington get ready for the day from the doorway.  He carried himself with a certain grace and poise at all times and it was nice to see him at ease.  Even if it was watching him brush his teeth and style his hair, it made him more human.  Washington was more than a capable adult but Church loved to pluck the razor from his hands and shave Wash’s stubble for him.  Church loved growing facial hair, he loved the way his goatee framed his jaw and he loved his ever-present five o’clock shadow but Washington couldn’t bear the idea of his face being anything but smooth.  Maybe it was personal preference, maybe it was years of military regulations, either way he couldn’t stand the thought.  He tried his best to shave every day but the mornings Church caused him to sleep in meant forgoing some of his daily rituals to stay on time and shaving was sometimes one of those habits.  Church enjoyed that best though.

            It was intimate for him to walk up and step into Wash’s space and quietly run the razor against foamed up skin, down his jaw, and rinse.  It was trust encapsulated.  He cupped Washington’s cheek, tilted his head with a finger tucked under the other man’s chin and it was hard not to get lost in the dimples of Wash’s smile between rinses.  Washington often kept his eyes focused on Church’s who in return only ever paid attention to the way the blade traveled.  There were more wrinkles and scars on both their faces than when they first met and under any other circumstance, Church would’ve been remiss some of his best years were wasted fighting a pointless war but it was hard to feel regret when he knew some of the best wrinkles etched into Washington’s darker, sharp features were attributed to all the ways Church found to make him laugh over the years, whether intentional or not.

            Once he finished going over smooth tan skin with the razor, he finally glanced up to meet Wash’s eyes, smiled and began the day with his own morning shower.  Church, who enticed and captivated him (who would’ve thought), always left their glass shower door open in invitation and if York could see how often he followed after him, Wash’d never hear the end of it.  It didn’t matter if Washington bathed the night prior or if he already showered after his jog, Church always found a way to lord his allure over him.

            The worst was the one time they were at a formal dinner to celebrate something or another for the space marine veterans and everyone from the red and blue teams were in attendance and Church couldn’t give less of a fuck.  He was in head to toe black:  black tie, black dress shirt, black suit jacket, black _everything_ (“To mourn the loss of my dignity for having to go to this stupid shit”) and Washington chose to adorn himself in a slate grey waistcoat sitting atop a black dress shirt and white tie.  Not only were they late to the event since Church couldn’t tie a tie worth shit which meant Washington had to step in and assist (additionally, this meant a fair amount of _why_ they were late related to Washington rolling up the tie around his fist and having a heavy makeout session against the bathroom counter), but once they arrived, Church’s hand never left Washington’s back pocket.  (“We look good, I wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about you.”)  Wash was flustered, his cheeks faintly tinged pink but Church smiled over at him as they worked the room with a smug questioning look like he wasn’t a little shit.  Wash later retaliated when he dragged Church onto the dance floor during a slow song.  Church hated dancing, even worse if it was something languid and measured.  It was part retribution and part Washington treasured the moments Church was safe in his arms.

            “Really, man, you’ve got to be kidding me.  You are not the lead in this,” Church hissed under his breath.

            “I’m taller than you it only makes sense,” he smiled back innocently.

            Church scoffed, “By an _inch_ , that’s nothing.  We’re practically the same height!”

            Wash softly pulled Church in close, his hand resting protectively on his hip and swaying to the music.  The top of his ears were stained red but he obliged with a hand on Washington’s shoulder.  They moved together enveloped in each other’s arms and lost in their moment.  For as much as Church might’ve protested under his breath, Washington just smiled at him tenderly.  They did this fairly regularly late at night in their own living room.  He was sure everybody in attendance would’ve been shocked to see him dip Church low and kiss him deeply (Church himself included) refraining subsequently, making a mental note to do it later when they were in the privacy of their own home.  When Tucker later asked him what the hell was going on between them, Church shrugged and gave a flippant response about how he and Wash were roommates.  Tucker remarked how it was more believable for Caboose and Donut to be _just_ roommates at this point than Church and Washington.  Their life together was nobody else’s business but their own, they endured copious trauma, together and separate, they found solace and comfort in each other.  It wasn’t the life they were promised but they found the feeling of home in one another’s embraces.

            The few times they were apart for more than a day found them exhibiting their fondness for the other in atypical ways.  Washington swiped Church’s aftershave much to his dismay (“I need that!”).  Church preferred to think his way was more subtle.  It was odd to be alone, not to have Washington pressed into his chest at night or be able to detect the faint smell of his shampoo on the pillow which resulted in him pilfering Wash’s closet.  Washington’s clothes were all fitted which meant they ran a little big on Church since he was of average tone and definition.  Where Wash’s shirts clung to him, they hung loose on Church.  It was kind of a nice sight to open the door when he’d been away on a mission to see Church angrily mashing the buttons of the TV remote and nursing a bottle of beer as he sat on the couch in Wash’s black dress shirt with the top buttons popped open.  It was even more endearing how one of Wash’s cats was fast asleep on his lap and he was certain he could see Church petting her idly between swigs.

            “Cute.”

            “Don’t call me that ever again or I’ll cut off your balls while you sleep, jackass.”

            Washington kissed the top of his head as he stole the beer, settling down next to Church on the couch.  This was their life now.  It was theirs and no one else’s and he wouldn’t give it up for anything.  Not the high-pitched bickering which drove his cats insane, not the insults and empty threats thrown about in the heat of the moment, none of it.  Their faces were more wrinkled, battle-worn.  There were scars adorning their bodies, their minds, and at the end of it all, this was their reward:  a life built worth living.  Not existing, not surviving but truly living and the way they wanted.  They were both a little bit older now and a little more in love.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t shake the idea of domestic Churchington and as I began to write, more snippets of their life together kept on popping up in my mind.
> 
> I refer to them as “Washington’s cats” because I imagine Church is all stand-offish and pretends like he doesn’t give a shit about them until Wash is gone or something. Then he’s all about petting and scratching those little fuckers ears. I also can’t imagine Church and Wash’re the type of people to say “I love you” to each other, choosing instead to show it and when they do it’s hella intimate.
> 
> Last side note, this definitely had a MUCH sadder ending at first and then I was like, “hahahahaha nah fuck that, this is me we’re talking about, I refuse to write sad shit.”


End file.
